


It's Raining, It's Pouring

by KitanaRiddle



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dating, Elevator Sex, First Time, Fluff and Smut, If You Squint - Freeform, M/M, Mirror Sex, No Mary Hate, Post Season 3, Rimming, Spoilers, pinch of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-19
Updated: 2014-02-19
Packaged: 2018-01-13 00:44:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1206571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KitanaRiddle/pseuds/KitanaRiddle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Sherlock didn't allude himself into believing that the man chained at the depths of his Mind Palace was the true Moriarty. But he was aware that two years of destroying the man's network had led Sherlock to have the deepest insight into the criminal's mind....<br/><b>"And John will cry buckets and buckets. It’s him that I worry about the most. That wife! You’re letting him down, Sherlock. John Watson is definitely in danger." </b></i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Why would Moriarty have brought up the one person that would return the will to live into Sherlock?  </i>
</p>
<p>Post Season 3 where Moriarty's end game has always been John Watson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Raining, It's Pouring

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed and unbritpicked  
> Season 3 spoilers

There was only one question that plagued Sherlock's mind since had Mary shot him. He didn't query why she acted as she did - he understood the desperate measures one would take to avoid losing John Watson, and he didn't wonder what secrets lingered in her darkened past - Mycroft's sources brightened every dark corner. However, what he didn't have an answer to was  _Moriarty_. 

Sherlock didn't allude himself into believing that the man chained at the depths of his Mind Palace was the true Moriarty. But he was aware that two years of destroying the man's network had led Sherlock to have the deepest insight into the criminal's mind.  Death is the ultimate form of boredom; the brain quite literally rots away at itself. The only escape from the dreary cycle of cellular deterioration would have been for Sherlock to die and join him then the last form of Moriarty would fade away and let the man have peace. However… 

**"And John will cry buckets and buckets. It’s him that I worry about the most. That wife! You’re letting him down, Sherlock. John Watson is definitely in danger."**  

Why would Moriarty have brought up the one person that would return the will to live into Sherlock?  

In the two years that Sherlock was away, it was Mycroft and Moriarty's voices who guided him into destroying the criminal's cooperation of corruption. Mycroft would berate him for the simple clues that he was missing and Moriarty would drop hints to the things that Sherlock had seen but not observed. It was John’s voice that guided Sherlock back into London. Obviously the detective was missing something in regards to Moriarty and John. Maybe the criminal had a more devious plot for the doctor that wasn't able to come to fruition because of his suicide. Or perhaps Moriarty had enacted his plan and John was in danger.  

Sherlock felt his veins crave nicotine to aid his mind as he failed to discover what he was missing.  As he sat, folded into his chair with his fingers under his chin, he began to sing under his breath.  

"It's raining, it's pouring, Sherlock is boring. I'm laughing, I'm crying, Sherlock is dying."  

He only stopped singing when the grocery bags fell from John's hands as the army veteran walked past him, close enough to hear the song, "What are you singing?" 

"Children’s song. Surely you've heard of it."  

"No," it was his flatmate's rigid voice that caused Sherlock to glance up and look at the man who was speaking, "You were singing different words." 

John's face was a pale white and his fist was clenched beside his body, "John, what's wrong?" 

"Where did you hear that song, Sherlock?" 

"When I was shot, I went to my mind palace to avoid going into shock and I heard it there." 

John relaxed slightly but the tension was still evident in his shoulders, "Is that the only place?" 

"I do not say this often, John, but I do not understand." 

"When Moriarty had me at the pool, he kept singing that song to me through the headset. I didn't really remember it until after…" John trailed off. 

"After?" 

"After Bart's Bloody Hospital. I got a phone call from a blocked number and I thought it was you but when I answered it, it was Moriarty singing that song.  First time Mary'd ever see me lose it." 

Sherlock jumped to his feet, "But you only met Mary a year after the jump. Mycroft and I had captured every direct source to Moriarty's web. The last year was spent destroying the support pieces, none of which would have known nor had access to you." 

"What are you saying, Sherlock?" 

"I've missed something." 

Sherlock sank back into his chair as his mind raced backwards from that moment until the first moment he met John. When he found nothing of suspicion, he repeated again. It was hours later, as a cold cup of tea sat beside him and John had retreated to bed, that Sherlock's eyes shot open with realization.  

**The Sniper.**  

Mycroft's men had captured the man who had his gun aimed at John, yet both brothers were surprised when the man turned out to be a Ukrainian sniper with a very low kill rate. They were expecting Moriarty would enjoy the irony of having his second-hand man take out Sherlock's second-hand man, but they'd assumed Moriarty's vanity stopped him from even having a second in command. Obviously they were wrong. 

* * *

Christmas approached swiftly and Sherlock had his brother increase John's security but he couldn't do much else until after he'd dealt with Magnussen. Thoughts of Moriarty drifted into the background while the excitement of the chase built. Sherlock had to protect John and Mary's relationship as well as their unborn baby -he'd made that vow- and the bullet currently soaring towards Magnussen in full view of the British Secret Service was the only way to do so.  He'd mourn John once more but at least his death was assured in at least six months. Sherlock raised his arms and held his chin up towards the helicopter that his brother was in and prayed that Mycroft would remember his promise to protect John Watson.  

* * *

The worst part about being dead wasn't the constant boredom, nor was it the filth he was forced to hide in. The worst part about being dead was watching his network get torn down, bit by bit, until he no longer had any surveillance on John Watson. The last thing he was able to do before he lost all of his support was give John the final phone call so that the doctor could never forget him.

And yet somehow in the time it took between Sherlock’s return and Jim regaining enough connections to finalize his return, John had managed to almost be burnt alive, gotten married, gotten his wife pregnant and almost arrested for treason. It was enough to make Jim’s blood boil. He knew that he had less than three days after Sherlock murdered Magnussen to plan a global comeback or else Holmes Sr. would have his baby brother shipped off on some suicide mission.  Luckily it was Moran who John had succeeded in falling in love with so all Jim had to do was let his second in command know that he’d returned.

“Moran,” Jim growled once the phone was answered, “this is not quite what I had in mind.”

“With all due respect, sir, you were dead so I took my own initiative,” Mary’s voice was cold and had very little _respect_ in it.

“And now I’m back so I will need divorce papers signed within the next 24 hours.”

“No.” Mary’s response was followed by a click and a dial tone. She’d hung up on him. Obviously Mary Watson, born Sabrina Moran, had gotten cocky with the protection of the Holmes boys. Still Jim needed to get her out of the way and he knew just the man to do it.

* * *

Once Sherlock had gotten off the plane he put all of his effort into finding out who sent John the phone call and who was responsible for the video feed of Moriarty taking over Europe.  Little by little the hints fell into place and Sherlock realized something that both he and Mycroft had missed -Mary was Moriarty's second in command.

He knew John would be too busy focusing on keeping his pregnant wife safe that he wouldn't realize it was his wife who'd brought Moriarty back. The only thing that Sherlock needed to figure out now was if Mary had stopped Sherlock from leaving for John, or if she had another more dangerous purpose.

He dropped hints to Mary to arrange a meeting without John knowing about it so Sherlock could know the truth before once more risking John’s marriage.

He walked into an apartment that he hadn't stepped into in over two years. It was the former apartment of Kitty Riley, and the first place he started when tracking Moriarty's network.  

It took only a few minutes for Mary to walk in. 

"I knew about your past with the Red but Moriarty… John would have never been able to look past that," Sherlock spoke as he followed Mary into the kitchen and watched her put on the kettle, "The stick you gave him was empty." 

"Of course. Had he looked, I would've shot him and then left," she answered. 

"Why did Moriarty change snipers? You were supposed to shoot John, weren't you?" 

Mary glanced over Sherlock's shoulder and spoke, "None of it matters. I won't be letting either of you take this child from me." 

"Either of…" Sherlock spun around expecting to see that John had managed to pick up on his hints. Instead he was face to face with a man he was certain was dead.  _Moriarty._  

"Little Moran has developed herself a heart," Jim mocked, "You've always known where my heart is and I will kill you and that baby if you don't stand down."  

Mary gave a humourless bark of laughter, "You think he'd want you after you murdered his child?"   

"His child?" Sherlock interrupted and turned to Jim, "Don't tell me you have a  _thing_  for John."  

"I let you destroy my criminal masterpiece to prove to John that I would change for him. I altered my plans and outted myself to stop his best friend from being killed. I didn't  _fillet_  Moran when she refused to get a divorce. If that's not enough for John, I've got other plans." 

Sherlock sneered, "Do your plans involve chocolate and roses?"  

"Tea and handguns seemed more his style."  

"Enough!" Mary yelled, "I don't give a rats arse what either of you do. But I am going to walk out of here and not one of the Holmes brothers nor Moriarty's network will look for me. I want to be the most well hidden woman since Irene Adler."  

"You can't take John's daughter from him." Sherlock's voice lowered dangerously.  

Mary pulled out a gun from under her coat and pressed the barrel against her inflated stomach, "Either you agree to my terms or I pull the trigger."  

From behind them in a voice with such authority that Sherlock could count on his hands the times he's heard it, John spoke, "Let her leave."  

"John," Sherlock and Moriarty spoke as Mary inched towards the back door. "She loves our child and I'd rather have her live raised by Mary than be dead on this floor."  

As the fingers of her free hand curled around the handle of the door, she spoke, "I am sorry." 

"I know," John was proud his voice only cracked slightly, "Keep her safe." 

"With every power I have," Mary spoke as she vanished through the doorway.  

* * *

Three months had passed since Mary left. John knew his daughter would have been born by now and he wondered what she looked like and if Mary had named her Elizabeth as they planned. More than anything though, he wanted to know what Mary's agenda was when she decided to be with him. Sherlock admitted he was at a loss and John refused to speak to Moriarty despite the gourmet teas that the man was mailing to him each week. However, as his wedding anniversary drew near he found his curiosity burn stronger than his distaste for Moriarty.  

Standing in the centre of the kitchen John yelled, "I know you have the place bugged. We need to talk." 

His phone rang less than a minute later, "Johnny-boy." 

"Mr. Moriarty, I'm not sure why you'd ever think I'd fall for you but if you truly feel the way you claim, then you will give me answers." 

"Answers. I'll give you anything you'd like, love. Shall I come over?" 

John glared at the empty sitting room, "I'm not inviting you in here. You already bugged the place which means you're already here too often than I'd like." 

"Oh John," Moriarty's sigh sounded fond, "I bugged your phone case. Best to keep tabs on you wherever you are." 

"My phone- you bugged my phone? Of course you bloody did. No tell me now or I will refuse to speak with you again. What were your orders to Mary?”

“Moran was originally supposed to put a bullet through that handsome skull of yours, but what a waste of a brain that would be, love. So her orders were to protect you for the next ten years and she would be automatically paid monthly from one of my offshore accounts regardless of my living or dying.”

“And her dating me wasn’t part of that?”

Jim snarled, “You think I’d assign someone to seduce the man I want? No that was Moran going after the one thing she’s wanted her entire adult life.”

“Normality?” John asked.

“A baby. Moran, like Sherlock and myself, is damaged and she swore she would never force a child to be born unless the father had enough _good_ traits to counteract her.”

“Why would she have told you that?”

“Part of her contract was that Moran wanted some of her eggs frozen and guaranteed two years of maternity leave. Those are very specific demands and so I demanded the truth in exchange.”

John was silent for a long moment, “It’s relieving to know my daughter will be loved.”

“Yes, there’s something about Watsons that can make even the coldest people feel the spark of affection.”

“Thank-you for giving me the truth, Mr. Moriarty.”

“You can repay me by calling me Jim,” The criminal almost begged from the phone.

John was silent once more before he closed his eyes and with a slight smile on his mouth (one he would deny) spoke, “Thank-you, Jim.”

* * *

Sherlock had run off, leaving John stranded in a swamp nearly 600km from London. The detective had jumped onto the motorbike the two had drove down on and sped off further into the bushes without a backwards look to his flatmate. Mycroft was off on unknown business, Greg’s phone was destroyed when Sherlock had flung himself into the Thames and Greg followed after to pull the idiot out, Mike was teaching a conference out of town and Molly was attending the same one.  John stared at his contact list for ten minutes, until the sound of the motorcycle couldn’t be heard even faintly, and then he sucked up his pride.

“Afternoon, love,” Jim purred when he picked up.

“Mr. Mori- Jim, is there any chance you have a trace on my phone?”

“Of course there’s a chance, Johnny. If I did have one, would it be acceptable for Daddy to pay you a little visit?”

John resisted the urge to laugh, “That sounds good.”

“What? I’m leaving now; you cannot change your mind.”

 The line clicked as the previous criminal hung up. John sat on a partially rotted log by the road side and waited for either his flatmate or Jim to arrive to pick him up.

It was less than an hour later that John heard the whirring of a helicopter and felt the wind pick up around him. The tiny aircraft landed a few meters away from him and Moriarty jumped out of it looking satisfied with himself.

Before John could gather his wits, Jim pulled the doctor into a hug and gave him a large smile, “Still as good looking as ever, though you could do with a wash.”

“Sherlock drug me through the swamp looking for an earring and when I found a cufflink instead he ran off without me.”

“That means the thief is the sous-chef and not the accountant. I won’t complain about Sherlock’s lack of manners since it means I can give you a ride home.”

John’s stomach gave a sharp twist as he realized he hadn’t eaten since breakfast and it was almost eight in the evening, “A ride home and take-out?”

“Anything for you, my dear,” Jim’s hand reached up as if to touch John but at the last moment he plucked a leaf out of the blond’s hair instead.

Before he could stop himself John offered, “You could come in and eat with me when we get back to London.”

John decided it was the complete look of shock and not the beaming smile that followed which made John indulge the thought of seeing Jim more often.

* * *

By Sherlock’s estimate, Mary and John’s child would be celebrating her first birthday within the next 27 days.  He wished he could give John more information but Moriarty and Mycroft were adamant at stopping any investigation that Sherlock tried to start.

“The last thing you want is for Moran to get scared. She’s like a feral beast and will attack when threatened. What if John’s child got hurt?” Moriarty scolded.

“If I didn’t have to watch you and John make starry-eyes at each other, I’d never believe what a change of heart you’ve had.”

Moriarty tilted his head and smirked, “And yet here I am about to take John out on our first official date.”

“It’s repulsive.”

“Now, now Sherlock, don’t be jealous that Daddy has a new favorite,” Moriarty stood up as he heard John’s stomping up the stairs, “If it’s _any_ consolation, you never truly were my favorite.”

“A pity,” Sherlock deadpanned back.

John threw open the door and he looked slightly rumpled, “Is Jim here” he paused as he caught the Irish man’s eye, “-sorry I’m late. Let me change and we’ll be off.”

Once John returned and was being ushered out the door, Moriarty gave Sherlock a wink, “Don’t wait up.”

* * *

John would be lying if he didn’t say it was slightly embarrassing to be taken out on a date. Jim had arranged dinner and dessert followed by a walk where their hands remained interlocked. It was only once they arrived to a ritzy hotel that John realized Jim had gained the upper-hand.

“I don’t usually put out on the first date, but you’ve been such a gem,” the former criminal whispered as he leaned in towards John.

John pulled away before their lips could collide, and then he began to laugh, “Shite sorry. Instincts.”

Suddenly Jim found himself wrapped in his date’s arms as the blond began to press deep and long kisses against his mouth. Jim was breathless when John pulled away and he realized at some point he’d stop counting the kisses and had allowed himself to be pressed against the side of the hotel.

“Let’s go inside,” he gasped as John assaulted his neck with teeth.

“Which room?”

“Anyone, I bought the hotel.”

Jim felt John chuckle against his collarbone before the doctor pressed a quick peck to his lips and began to drag him into the elevator, “You seem off. What’re you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” Jim astonished, “You’ve completely shut off my ability to think.”

It was the complete honesty in Jim’s voice that caused John to shove the other man against the wall and rip open his pants, “Jim, what’re you doing to me?”

Rather than answer, Jim pulled John into a wet kiss and began to grind his thigh against John’s prick while John wrapped his fist around Jim. Soon the two were rutting against each other and panting into the kiss. The elevator had long since stopped and Jim pulled away to allow oxygen into their lungs rather than exchange carbon dioxide.

He nearly came when he saw the reflection in the mirrored side of the elevator. John with his shirt rucked up to his armpits, from when Jim was desperate to feel his skin, looked absolutely sinful and Jim himself looked completely ravished with his hair pulled from John’s strong hands. There were bite marks trailed across Jim’s skin and- his observations were stopped in their tracks as John tightened his grip around Jim and twisted. 

John’s free hand wandered to the back of Jim’s pants in an attempt to pull them off of the man; however, it was the small packets in his date’s rear pockets that stopped both of his hands.

“You’re ambitious,” John giggled as he pulled out a line of six condoms and three packets of lube, “How did I not notice this?”

“I made sure you were always ahead of me so I could look at your perfect arse,” Jim teased, grateful for the moment to regain his senses after the sexual frenzy John had cast on his mind.

“If you like it so much, perhaps you better have a go at it.”

It was then that Jim’s mind stopped recovering and the lizard part of his brain began to focus on the sole purpose of getting Jim inside of John.

He pushed John onto the ground and they wrestled each other’s clothes off while their hands reached for as much skin as possible. Once both were naked, Jim urged John to turn over onto his hands and knees.

“Just for the prep,” Jim whispered against John’s shoulder blade, sensing the man didn’t prefer that position.

The sight of John’s tight, pink hole caused Jim to salivate and he couldn’t help but swipe his tongue over it once before circling the muscle with a wet finger. He bit and sucked at John’s back while slowly adding fingers until the man beneath him was demanding to be fucked.

“Don’t be a tease,” John’s growl faded to a gasp as his prostate was stroked.

Jim pulled out his fingers and dipped his tongue into the now open hole, and thanked the maker of flavored lube.  Before he could begin to properly rim John, the soldier in John took over and he had Jim on his back within moments.  The blond wrapped his hand around Jim and kissed the man.  

John pulled away from the kiss and picked up the condoms, giving them a slightly dirty look, “Since you want your mouth there, let’s forget these and you can clean me out after.”

The fingers which were stroking Jim’s shaft became wet from a flood of precome, “For Johnny-boy, anything.”

John stopped his ministrations and held Jim’s cock steady while he sunk down onto it. Soon he was flush with Jim’s hips and the two started a deep but slow pace. It was John’s turn to stare into the mirror and marvel at how stunning they were together.  Jim wrapped one hand around John’s hip and the other around the leaking shaft that bounced with every thrust. When Jim’s thrusts grew erratic and fast, John allowed himself to be tipped onto his back as Jim’s orgasm overtook him.

Jim bit John’s shoulder as he drew deep breaths through his nose. Once he finally recovered he became aware of John’s hand on top of his own, moving them up and down John’s erection. As he was formulating a plan to give John an orgasm as mind blowing as the one he’d just had, the doctor spoke.

“You promised to clean me up once you got me dirty.”

A devious grin appeared on Jim’s face as he lowered himself down John’s body pressing kisses along the way, “With pleasure, sexy.”


End file.
